*
we are here
softly abandoned
glaring at the shadow of
an airplane on the ground
one of those luminous day
where every detail is out
for count and thanksgiving
following a time dark as
the night upon which we
both struggled with
eyes wide open to
no avail in fear
.
.
.
This poem appears in the first volume of the “California Notebooks”.
.
As I believe in the infinite circle, here after Step 1, is Step 13 🙂
13.
while I learn to move my ears
in the air to grasp whispers
poetry explains itself
.
.
.
.
It’s my hope that each steps of Thirteen Ways Of Looking At A Poem led you further ahead in your love and understanding of poetry. Thank you for reading.
.
2.
sometimes you are just
walking minding your own
business when something almost
invisible floats in front of you
usually a bit on the side not exactly
in front you need to pay attention
and gently pick the poem
out of the air
.
.
.
After Wallace Stevens poem Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird
.
3.
just as bunny rabbits
at dusk poems show up
and while you stand
with your mouth open or
an enchanted smile
they rush away
.
.
.
After Wallace Stevens poem Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird
.
This Sunday Post is both in Italian and in English
*
nuvola
senza che nessuno
cambi tutto
cambia
.
.
*
cloud
without anybody
changing everything
changes
.
.
Sunday posts are dedicated to Italian Poetry
*
ogni fiore ha la sua
ape che per un tempo lo abbraccia
e lo deruba eppure si dona
serenamente non un fiore
scappa via alcuni cadono
nel canale l’acqua
scorre lenta scorre alta
quella degli irrigatori
dipingono un arcobaleno
nell’aria per me che
ho una vita più breve della loro
.
.
Tuesday Poems will be in English as usual.
Sì, la domenica le poesie saranno in italiano!
Poesia tratta da “California Notebooks” in vendita da Feltrinelli.
.
8.
some dreams are infinite it takes
but a few words to evoke those
emotions are a whole sea of waves
useless to separate them to make
some sense just a few words
can take you to sea free the page
among waves and winds
let the reader fly
.
.
.
.
After Wallace Stevens poem Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird.
.
9.
I’ve tried to explain
how the whites around
the words are so important
to me those silences I caress
on paper breaths spaces
make the poem
.
.
.
.
After Wallace Stevens poem Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird
10.
have you been to that quiet corner
in your house when you shut out
all the superficial chatter where
you are the spirit of poetry
.
.
.
.
After Wallace Stevens poem Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird.
11.
there’s a pace you need
to let your soul reach where
there will be no more war inside
of you nor anger where you bow
kindly and poetry welcomes you
.
.
.
.
After Wallace Stevens poem Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird.
.
.
.
12.
Cloud have covered the whole
day slowing down my rhythm
I walk as barefoot on carpet
placing words carefully
dozing off a bit hanging
poetic moments behind my eyes
.
.
.
.
After Wallace Stevens poem Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird.
.
A tiny taste of the radio interview I did in Milan, Italy, two weeks ago. The first poems is in English.
Un piccolo assaggio video dell’intervista all’Onda di Radio Navigli di Milano del 21-6-18. La seconda poesia è in italiano.
Text below/Testi a fondo pagina
*
I’ve seen rain
stepping on the sea
incessantly tapping
not able to carve
ancient holes
as on rocks
because it
was welcomed
it was welcome
*
ho visto la pioggia
camminare sul mare
bussava senza sosta
incapace di scavare
buchi antichi
come nelle rocce
perchè era
accolta
era ben accolta
*
wisdom can be found
in forgetting
love is stitched on a
white canvas
an array of colors
red for bleeding
is an illusion to the eyes
it’s calm blue deep
within
and forgiveness
may be a life raft
.
.
.
This poem appears in the first volume of the “California Notebooks”.
.
*
may my smile
be forever loving
as I play in life
new roles and adjust
words as a tight dress
may wind clothe me
forever changing
just that loving smile
let that one survive
.
.
.
This poem appears in the first volume of the “California Notebooks”.
*
a river pouring
you are not rushing
to me poetry flows
out is hard to contain
I’ve no hands for that use
I’ve new eyes to embrace
strong legs clasped around
it’s an odd place wonderful
to be tell me what is
new today with you
